The Secret's in the Telling
by words end here
Summary: Aria/Ezra; during and post-pilot. "She's not a convert to anything remotely resembling the fairytale." Oneshot.


**A/N: **There's something about this show. Initially I felt the pilot was weak, but by the end I found myself really looking forward to the next episode. It was a bit fast-paced, but it's got more heart than Gossip Girl (at least, right now) and the scandal of Desperate Housewives. I haven't read the book series (it's summertime, so I'll get to it) so therefore this only takes the events of the pilot and 'The Jenna Thing' in account. And well, I love anything forbidden, so my like for Aria/Ezra? Inevitable. Here's a little something about them, I hope you like it.

* * *

**The Secret's in the Telling**

_There is a secret that we keep  
I won't sleep if you won't sleep  
Because tonight may be the last chance we'll be given  
We are compelled to do what we must do  
We are compelled to do what we have been forbidden_

- Dashboard Confessional

* * *

She's not a convert to anything remotely resembling the fairytale.

She's an anomaly in Rosewood, where every girl feels she's the town princess because daddy says so, and everyone knows everyone else (sometimes, a little too well, she knows.) When she was fifteen that fact dawned on her and lodged itself in her mind, and then the process of trying to separate herself from these perfect people with their perfect lives began.

Okay, so she just had some pink streaks through her hair, but it was separation nonetheless, a restrained form of attempting to regain her individuality, she reasons.

Ultimately, laying in her bed on the night of the funeral, wrapped in a cocoon away from the world, when she's alone, reflecting on everything that's transpired and somewhat mentally preparing herself for her secrets to be cast to this small town that already has plenty to gossip about and speculate on, she concludes that everything is to blame on her family who like to play that same game, wonders if there's something in Montgomery genetics that demands whatever is forbidden to them.

Before reality came crashing in, Aria was her dad's daughter. She sided with him whenever there was an argument, modelled herself after him without even realising it, and in the end, every girl needs her father's approval, whether she wants to admit it or not.

That's what most people will tell you. That there's always going to be part of you that craves fatherly endorsement like the curt nod he'll give you when he approves of the boyfriend. Add it to her ever-growing list of everything that has changed.

The reality is she can't be dragging her English teacher (her boyfriend? She honestly can't draw a line, doesn't think she ever will be able to) home to her English teaching father, even if Iceland was so terribly lonely and the constant state of winter strangely mirrored how she felt. Even if she wanted her home every day, even if her dad didn't just cheat on his wife, but his family.

He can claim to love her and his wife and his son all he wants. In the end, she'll never have the heart again to return that statement to him.

So it doesn't really surprise her when she thinks about how she was inexplicably drawn to a man who seemed, with his dark curls, intense stare and slightly awkward demeanour, was so earnest and could hold so much promise in an empty bar.

And anyway, she hasn't had anything so _instant _since her former best friends.

She didn't feel so classy, making out with a guy in the bathroom of said bar. It was rough, but she was ready to feel something again, to feel right, although she's always known she wasn't meant for straight edges and the perfect fit, even if his lips on hers did delude her into feeling like _this is it _for a little while.

* * *

Aria has Ezra's number in her cell and hers is on his.

Still, it feels a lot like she will never see hot older guy again.

Not if she doesn't choose to make it happen.

(A shame, she thinks – after a year of little action she could certainly grow used to being kissed like _that _as a welcome home.)

* * *

_Holy crap _is right.

The only thought that races through her mind the moment she looks up towards the front of the classroom is how scandalous this is, all of it. She didn't plan on seeing this guy again, and now she'll be forced to see him for the rest of the year. It scares her, how seamlessly she has slid back into her former world, what with Emily just finding her at the school the way they always found each other, a wave at Hanna and a curt nod at Spencer. The distance is so palpable between them, but there's that bond between them that threatens to bloom all over again.

Suddenly, it feels like she'll have her friends back and a guy to go with it.

It's all so pretty, from the outside.

Secrets; apparently they have the power to pull everything together again or rip it all apart.

Knowing things that are years old, but still harbour the potential to ruin reputations.

And this is just another one that could very much be the ruin of the man's right in front of her.

After she reads that text her heart beats erratically; thinks that her daddy issues need some serious resolution, thinks maybe she can't do this with Ezra without forgiving her dad.

When he resumes with his introduction it feels a lot like their real beginning, and she has a nagging feeling that his brown stare will be melding with hers for a longer time than either could have anticipated.

* * *

When she walks down the all too familiar corridors of this school on the way, she doesn't want to get into a habit of doing this, of waiting until the noise of hundreds of kids has dissipated and the place looks lifeless.

But it's the way he looks at her when she slowly steps through his classroom door that makes her concede to the idea that maybe some things are worth the wait.

When he walks away with his _"We just can't." _She feels a bitter sting, more pain than she really should feel.

Still, it says a lot that he's the first to make her feel in a while.

* * *

"_I don't know which part sucks more; having to stay away from you or being a jerk about it."_

Aria can identify which part "sucks more." (Besides, she has a feeling he's almost unbearably hot when he gets mad.)

How is it possible, at her former best friend's funeral, to inject some romance into the least romantic situation? When she's about to be mature about this, when she's about to remove her heart from this situation and walk away, she feels his hands on her waist and he quite literally knocks her off balance.

_Well, _she thinks, _it's nothing new._

All she can taste on his lips is trouble, total trouble.

And she's completely allured by it.

When she finally pulls away, it feels a lot like this is the way it's always going to be between them. They'll have their moments that completely immerse her in something new, forbidden; _exhilarating, _but in the end she's just going to pick up her heart again and walk away.

And then she wonders, _where does this story truly begin?_

_

* * *

_

Her friendships build slowly, but surely again.

Emily was so easy-going, calming to be around. She didn't exaggerate any drama the group had going on before Aria had to move away. Not that their drama can be further exaggerated anyhow. Still, through Hanna's endless rants and I'm-the-Queen-Bee-now-so-you'd-better-acknowledge-it attitude, Emily is her solid ground most of the time.

She suspects Spencer's got the more scandalous secret of them all. She had always been the most hard-working, perseverant, determined, and the most demure. Aria doesn't probe into Spencer's life the way she finds herself being a part of Hanna's and Emily's. Spencer was usually too stubborn to accept anyone's help anyway, so Aria doesn't ask.

She runs into Ezra everywhere. At the movies with her mom, at the coffee shop with Emily, and it's to be expected that when they're at school, he's unavoidable.

She can't escape him; what worries her even more is that she doesn't want to.

* * *

The attempt to transfer out of his class, just as she knew it would, fails. Aria's a believer in fate, but also that her choices can help shape her fate to an extent. She's trying; she's truly trying to distance herself from him. Then he says he can keep his feelings in check.

And that little statement hurts a lot more than it really should.

Aria gets an A in their first English test of the year, and she can't tell if Emily's joking when she says that she's Mr. Fitz's pet, or being deadly serious.

Behind every joke, there's a shred of truth. At least, that's what Aria has been told.

She's been left for a while now with a memory of raindrops smashing on the pavement, drenching her, and then his lips colliding with hers. That's all they'll ever have; moments.

She hunts through her paper looking at his looping script, hoping he's feeling brave enough to write something like _stay behind after class, _but apparently he isn't.

Whatever they are, it's so achingly indefinable. He's her teacher; a good one she thinks, or maybe it's all down to the fact that this has always been her subject and she wants to impress her teacher more than what's appropriate, given their situation. If it's so difficult for her to define them, she can't fathom the consequences if anyone ever found out.

His fleeting glances say _stay behind after class _anyway.

There aren't many words between them when every other pupil floods out of the room; Hanna sends Aria a curt nod and a small smile, to signal that maybe she's in on something.

But when Aria lets her arms loop around his neck and his warm brown eyes invite her in for a few seconds, she stops caring what anyone thinks; she knows she's in on something special.

* * *

When Hanna and Alison were doing their hair or nails; Emily and Spencer were running around with lacrosse sticks in their hands and going out for a run, Aria was reading.

Again, it's something she blames on her father. He'd read her a fairytale every night until she was seven; handed her a battered copy of _The Catcher in the Rye _at fourteen and her mom _The Bell Jar _at fifteen. She can't help but believe that her love for literature was something inherited. It's always been there, but recently it's been reawakened again, her friends commenting on how she's even out-reading Spencer these days.

There's nothing wrong with there being a meeting of the minds here, and that's what she begins to justify it as. It was only natural she connected with her English teacher anyhow; she couldn't solve real problems with a calculator, so maybe she can with words.

Maybe with his words; _"I wish I didn't have to burden you with this." "I can't wait until we're allowed to just be together." "Although I have more reasons than I should to say this, I think you're talented. I do."_

They don't text for fear anyone feels like invading their cell phones. Instead he'll call at nine every evening and she knows it's not Emily, Spencer or Hanna before she even reads her screen.

They'll be on the phone far past eleven and she's thankful to have someone who wants to escape with her. She's threatened ever day with the same texts but when she hears his warm tone from the end of the line, she's okay. She's safe.

Flippantly as they stroll into school the morning after, Hanna asks, "Why haven't you snagged a boyfriend yet?"

Sometimes, Aria wonders why too. She won't be able to take her English teacher to any dances, her prom, the formal, she knows that much.

She also knows it wouldn't matter what stupid high-school boy she had trying to get into her pants, her thoughts are only clouded with him.

This isn't how it's supposed to be, but she concludes that their petty high-school girl drama was buried in the ground a long time ago, she's reminded of it with every text, every guilty glance her friends share with her.

She knows everyone around her is simply waiting. Waiting for their secrets to be exposed, waiting for their first love to heighten their high-school experience, waiting to lose their virginity, waiting for the conversation they have with their parents that finally lets them know their _enough._

Aria's waiting on Ezra. After class, for him to call, for a time in their lives when they won't stand polarised; teacher and pupil, sixteen and twenty-five. Today, even though he doesn't ask her to stay behind after class, she can't really wait on him. Emily questions her as she retreats back into his classroom, waits until the soft thud lets her know that the door is closed and they are alone.

He shifts his gaze to her and taps his pen quickly against the paper he's grading. He lets out a soft sigh when he observes that she's lost whatever's left of her resolve.

"I can't do this anymore." She says sternly.

"It's hard for me too, Aria." He leaves his seat and advances towards the desk she's leaning against. He can't stop his arms from reaching out to rub her arms in comfort. "I understand...if you want out of this. Us." He says in a tone laced with strain. "Either way, it's hard for me and I know how much I'm hurting you without even meaning too."

She lets her eyes lock with his and it is the moment when her realisation settles abruptly; she'll never be out of this. She can ignore him in the corridors, call him _Mister Fitz _and try to pass him off as that cute, charming guy she found at a bar, but it's hard to conceive what it means feel safe until he drops a kiss to the nape of her neck, difficult to deduce how someone can feel fixed with a few words of encouragement, how a girl can get a guy to read some Austen, or how she feels like fire when his lips crash into hers and her fingers are running through his hair.

But they've found that in each other; a place where things are safe, fixed after a day of hiding, mutual encouragement.

"I'm not out," she says breathily and her stomach stirs, "As long as you're in this I'm not out."

She holds his hand as it cups her cheek. "I'm in."

It's not the words they're always discussing that are helping her; it's his.

She presses a chaste, fleeting kiss to his lips and glances at him with a sultry smile one more time before leaving his classroom, but never really leaving him. Without Mona attached to her hip, Hanna's leaning up against the locker; they're in the same Math class.

Hanna gives her a wry smile. "You know, in my over-active, scandalous imagination, the star pupil and her favourite teacher were sharing heated glances or maybe even a heated make-out session."

Its Hanna's distorted way of saying _I know. And it's okay._

It'll always be heated, they'll always be more than okay.

"You know...it's my own doing." Aria says, tucking a brown lock behind her ear self-consciously and Hanna replies with her I-don't-possibly-know-what-you-could-be-talking-about-look.

She'll never believe in anything remotely resembling the fairytale. And Aria and Ezra certainly don't look like one, but her heart beating vibrantly tells her to believe in them anyway.


End file.
